We are Preparing for the Afterlife
by Alterik
Summary: And if you don't look in the mirror often, you may be surprised by what you find when you do. You may not recognize what you have become. TCx Slipstream
1. Such Simple, Easy Lives

_We Are Preparing for the Afterlife_

Chapter --- 000

* * *

Humans were many things to Thundercracker, including a source of envy. They lived such simple, joyful lives. Most, if any of them, didn't know a true day's hardship. For them—those filthy pigs—if they missed their favorite television show or if they burnt their toast, then their whole day was ruined. Thundercracker never thought it possible to find creatures—other than Starscream—who would throw entire fits over such an insignificant detail. It appeared illogical to Thundercracker why they would throw such fits; however, as he observed them, he came to understand on some shallow level, that insignificant details like spilling your morning coffee were what a race accustomed to quick, easy service saw those little details as their challenges. This race no longer needed to hunt to neither survive nor worry about the big picture, so they worried about the small picture.

At first he was disgusted by what he had discovered. His thought process, over the course of several months, changed gears. He found himself returning more and more to Earth, even when missions to Earth were not allowed; however, returning to Earth was worth the risk of receiving a punishment. At first, Thundercracker wasn't entirely sure why he felt the need to return to such a pathetic planet filled with insects, he just needed too.

It was Starscream's unusually early screams of bickering that made him realize why he enjoyed Earth so much. There, on that seemingly ignorant planet, he didn't have to participate in life. He just watched and observed. Here though, in the heart of Nemesis, he had to participate in life. That depressing thought alone was enough to make the seeker groan. Thundercracker pushed himself into a sitting position on his berth. His optics, dull with stress, looked somberly at the ground. The seeker was craving a return right now. The seeker deactivated his optics as he relived the experience of flying against the wind. The tips of his winds shook at the feeling of the pleasurable memory. A faint, barely identifiable smile spread across his face. The oh-so pleasurable memory was almost enough to send the cold soldier into an overload.

The sound of Starscream's screams becoming louder sharply jarred him from the memory. The mech twisted his head towards the doorway, knowing any moment his leader would barge in, demanding all his seekers assemble. It was all in vain of course. Megatron knew that the seekers only stood by Starscream because they didn't want their audio sensors blown to pieces from Starscream's screechy voice, and the Decepticon leader knew full well that if push came to shove, the seekers (including himself) would abandon Starscream. Starscream, as much as Thundercracker had hoped at times, was not leader material. His leader would always be too paranoid, secretive, and too damn ambitious to be a good leader. A heavy sigh then escaped his lips. Thundercracker bowed his head close to his chest, and murmured to a being he was sure didn't exist, "God, please let me get through this day."


	2. It was an Ordinary Day

_We are Preparing for the Afterlife_

Chapter --- 001

* * *

For the most part, Thundercracker spent the majority of the meetings taking meager, mental notes, while his counterpart Skywarp doodled on the tabletop with his index finger. The blue seeker had given up long, long ago on convincing Skywarp to ever paying much attention to the meetings. He could understand where Skywarp was coming from when he had mentioned that the meetings consisted of ninety percent bullshit, five percent of Megatron having to physically remind Starscream of his position, and another five percent of actual planning. This meeting was no exception to the percentage rule, and Thundercracker found himself drifting between Starscream and Megatron's banter and planning what he would do with the rest of the day after this meeting ever ended.

"Thundercracker!" He flinched as Starscream's dry, creaky voice called out his name. The blue seeker lifted his head up, barely looking his commander in the eye before staring at Starscream's chest. "What is your opinion on this new battle plan?" Starscream leaned forward across the black, circle table. The tan seeker's maroon optics threateningly looked at his subordinate. They both knew what Starscream wanted from him—an answer that would support Starscream's viewpoint. However, Megatron had casually crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, awaiting Thundercracker's answer. Megatron's red orange optics eyed the seeker. He too, Thundercracker knew, was trying to intimidate in a more subtle way to disagree with Starscream.

A kick from Skywarp quickly brought the seeker to his senses. "I think the plan is fine as it is, Starscream," Thundercracker answered. "The more complicated the plan is, the more likely something is too go wrong; however, I think that if we did another direct attack, we would inevitably be forced to retreat once the Autobot forces arrived. I propose that we adjourn this meeting, and reschedule another one were we can debate and decide upon a better course of action to obtain more energy."

Starscream visibly snarled at the answer, while Megatron regarded the answer for a moment before giving an approving nod. This only further infuriated the second in command, but Megatron, like most of the time, ignored his second in command's childish behavior. "I concur, Thundercracker," he replied in his deep, rumbling voice. "This meeting has gone on far too long." The Decepticon leader's optics glanced to Starscream and back. "We will resume this meeting in three solar cycle's time." Megatron stood up, and looked around at the other officers at the table—Blitzwing, Astrotrain, Hook, Barricade, and Motormaster. "Skywarp, since you have failed to contribute anything to this discussion, you will make up for it by going on patrol during the break. Astrotrain, you will accompany him. The rest of you—" He looked around at each and everyone of them individually. "I expect to bring fourth your own ideas."

With that said, Thundercracker could breath a sigh of relief as he saw Megatron passed through the doors and out of his sight. The rest of them (excluding Starscream, Skywarp, and Astrotrain) shared his same relief. It wasn't often that Megatron gave them three days in between meetings with little to no restrictions. For the blue seeker, this wasn't something he was going to let slip by quietly. He stood up and followed Hook out of the room, leaving Skywarp to grump with Astrotrain about how "unfair" it was of Megatron to give one of his most elite and loyal soldiers a job suited for a drone. Thundercracker wouldn't let Skywarp know, but he was silently happy that Megatron had assigned him the duty. With Skywarp out of the way, he'd only have to worry about Soundwave spotting him. He took a big breath and tried to conceal the smile fighting to spread across his lips. Oh how he appreciated Megatron sometimes.

It was Starscream, as usual, to ruin his moment of joy. As his commander came beside him, Thundercracker slowed his pace out of respect. He let his yellow eyes glaze over Starscream's tattoos. He was disgusted at how quickly after Megatron's demise Starscream had been to announce his leadership to Cybertron, and to top it off, he marked himself in glyphs to symbolize his power; however, as stupid as this act was, Thundercracker did admire the courage that Starscream had had for painting himself as moving target. "You really should get rid of the glyphs, Commander," Thundercracker addressed. "You'll be easy to spot on Earth."

Starscream sneered, moving ahead of his subordinate. He held his head high like a dominant, aggressive dog and strutted down the hallway as if he owned it. "I will not be an undercover, stand-by seeker disguised as a faulty F-22, Thundercracker," he corrected harshly. "If I ever return to that horrid, rusty planet, it will be to only gather more energy. And besides, I don't want to have to apply the glyphs a second time."

"Starscream," Thundercracker met with an equally challenging tone. "It would be more efficient for the missions if you could blend in properly with the surroundings and pretend to be part of the U.S. Air force, so as to help cause a surprise attack on the Autobots." Starscream picked up his pace, obviously agitated. "Secondly, isn't it a bit early to be planning Megatron's demise already? After all, it took Optimus Prime how many millions of Earth years to finally kill him? Are you willing to wait another ten million years so that someone else can do your dirty work?" A low snarl echoed from his commander now, and Thundercracker smirked like a child. "Thirdly, you are not leader material Starscream. We saw what happened to you on Cybertron after Megatron's demise. The empire fell apart under your watch—"

"It was falling apart underneath Megatron's watch!" Starscream snapped. "I merely had the bad timing of getting the brunt of his mistakes." Starscream twisted his ugly head around to stare critically at Thundercracker. "And if you are to be so critical, why don't you shed your protoform and adapt a human vehicle, Thundercracker." His voice was the venom to Thundercracker's ears, and the blue seeker's wings bristled at how Starscream pronounced his name in that cynical, demeaning, downright wrong way. Starscream, with that bloated ego that just begged to be popped, crossed his arms and stared with an annoyed gaze at Thundercracker. "Actually, I think that would be a good task for you to do during your three days off, soldier."

This, what Starscream was telling him, was what would make these three days off so much better. He would have orders to go to Earth, and so he wouldn't have to worry about sneaking passed Soundwave. He could take his ol' merry time if he so pleased. This was one of the few times Thundercracker was happy to serve his commander. "So it's an order?" Thundercracker asked for clarity, just to ensure that he in fact did have clearance.

"Yes," Starscream sneered in his aristocrat voice. At that one word, Thundercracker's spark swelled with uncontainable happiness. "And while you are on Earth, bring back another set of calculations of a different insect-designed aircraft so that Skywarp can adapt a new form as well." The tan seeker placed a finger on Thundercracker's chest to reinforce the point. "I expect you back with only quality disguises, Thundercracker. Use your holoform if you must." Thundercracker nodded, trying to suppress his aching smile. "Then what the hell are you standing around for?" Starscream criticized. "Go!" He pushed Thundercracker back, before Starscream continued the long walk to his quarters.

For Thundercracker, he could not leave the Nemesis and Saturn's moon fast enough, and the trek to Earth seemed just as painfully long, if not longer because of the unchanging scenery. The seeker would never understand how that geeky Starscream could spend hours, days, and probably years studying a single celestial, gaseous body. To him, they looked the same, just some a bit dimmer than others. But that had always been Starscream—he always loved picking out the small details that made one star unique from another. Thundercracker on the other hand, longed for scenery where he could see a change without having to search for it. It had been his conclusion, that if you had to search for the beauty, then you wouldn't be able to enjoy it so much as beauty that you didn't have to search for, only observe.

That itself was another reason he enjoyed Earth. The scenery there was always changing, never the same for long. He didn't have to search for beauty because it was all around him. His silly, childish grin grew as the feeling of the Earth's outer atmosphere winds brushed against his body. It was made only better by the idea of Soundwave orbiting the planet on the complete opposite side of him. He transformed in the air, gracefully landing in Wyoming prairie lands. The wild mule deer flicked their li'l white tails skyward, and jumped and pranced away frantically like mad men. The black birds took to the skies as the ground shook from the massive weight of the lumbering giant. They screamed out into the morning air with unprecedented, clear voices.

The seeker took in a deep, colorful scented breath of the Earth's atmosphere. He took a moment to just take in the scenery and relax. The long, rolling hills were beautiful in the mid-summer drought. The green, fading brown grass leaned over one another in the wind and occasionally buckled to the ground. The deer nestled in a tight herd in the distance, where with large, alert, ebon' eyes, they stared at the intruder. But he didn't feel like an intruder. No, Thundercracker felt more like a visitor, someone who was just here to appreciate this "God's" work, if in fact there were an almighty. For the seeker, whom had come from a world defined by numbers, shape, and perfection, he found it hard to believe that there could possible be some greater power to create a masterpiece such as this world. It was hard for him to comprehend that something or someone could have such imagination.

Yet, Thundercracker would not believe that this beautiful scenery was the result of random events. The numbers and statistics didn't support that idea, nor would he allow himself to think that out of such a deadly and fragile world would yield such a sturdy and beautiful thing like a flower. The titan bent down to pet the grass, trying to imagine how it would feel if his sensors weren't dulled from a thick armor and pain-numbing programs. But he would take the faint touches and enjoy them for what they were.

He knew his limitations, and unlike Starscream, he respected those limitations.

Tranquility like this, as he had learned, never lasted long. There was always some chaos-bringer to destroy—and in this case it was a bark. This bark didn't belong to a wolf—they rarely spoke—but to a cousin of the wolf family. The bark was sharp, deep, threatening, and directed towards him. He momentarily froze because his initial instinct to fly would give him away on a clear day like this. Damn! The only place left … No; he wouldn't go there, that would be cowardly like Starscream! A second bark, followed by several more barks from different dogs erased all his pride as he ducked into the trees.

The branches snapped and yelped as he desperately, clumsily searched for a place to hide, but these trees—Dammit!—they weren't high enough to disguise his thirty-two feet tall body. Well, at least when he was standing. The seeker hunched over and laid flat on the ground. The warm Earth felt cool against his hot body and the trees' shadows helped to shade him from the burning, summer sun. For a moment, it was quiet, pure silence. In that brief moment, he sighed in relief that they were—WOOF! WOOF! WOOF! His optics flinched at the barks. He twisted his head to spot the small pack of five lean, graceful dogs charging towards him. Their large, radar-like ears were red with excitement, and between their legs, they whipped their tails from side-to-side. Behind the pack ran a tall, female human. She ran fast, faster than a normal human by his calculations.

"HALT!" she ordered at the top of her massive lungs. The dogs, without question, followed the order. They looked at the alien hiding in the trees, then back at their pack leader. The human slowed down, but came close enough that Thundercracker could make out the details of her body. She was tall, five feet nine inches to be precise, with soft, pale blonde hair. The woman's hair was cut short, just above the shoulders, and layered so that it framed her youthful face. She appeared foreign from her olive toned skin—the Mediterranean by his guess. She was beautiful, near perfect by human standards—well, would've been. Both her eyes were natural, tea green eyes. The only imperfection that bothered the transformer was her left, heterochromia eye. A block-like section of her upper eye was a light, hazel color with golden highlights near the center.

She didn't stop at the edge of the forest like he had hoped. No, he couldn't be that lucky. She crept far enough within the forest that he could smell the trances of energon from her breath. Behind followed a light fawn dog with tickling on his chest. The dog was alert, pulling his jowls back into growl. Thundercracker wanted to half growl back at the dog, but he didn't want to give away his position.

"Go home," the well-dressed human stated. It took a moment for Thundercracker to realize that the human had spotted him and was conversing with him. "Your kind isn't welcomed here." She raised her head with that snobbish, cynical, I'm-better-than-you-attitude. She, in a motion too similar to Starscream's, crossed her arms. She crinkled her nose. The dog stopped at her side, holding himself with just as much pride as his owner. "If you fail to comply, we will use physical force and your life may or may not be jeopardized."

Thundercracker, unable to tolerate her stern voice and curious as to what she was—he knew she wasn't human—stood. The thing stepped backwards as he revealed his height. Not only was he intimidating for being tall, but for his heavy, seeker build. His shadowed loomed over her ominously, but she hardly phased. If anything, she disregarded it, which only brought more questions to his mind. "Who are you?" he boomed.

"I said go home, Thundercracker," she repeated. She knew it by the tone of her voice, but he didn't know her … at least he didn't remember remembering her. "You have thirty-seconds to begin evacuation of the area in order for me to call off the attack."

Thundercracker chuckled at her threat. He knelt down, placing both his arms on his knees. "Who the slag do you think you are?" he demanded.

"Fifteen seconds," the human answered.

"You can't order me around," Thundercracker clarified. The girl stepped aside as a boom, loud enough to rival Thundercracker's own, registered within his audio sensors. He barely had enough time to twist his head around to catch a glimpse of a bright green object diving bombing him before he was forced to the ground. The feeling of his wings being detached from his body brought a sharp, spark-splitting pain to his body. A desperate plea for help and relief from the pain escaped his mouth, but he was quickly silenced. The neon green seeker took a shot at his chest, rendering the Decepticon's body limp. Thundercracker's senses dulled as he forced into stasis lock. Only the last words from the strange female reached his sensors.

"—told him it would happen."


	3. Papercuts Always Hurt

_We are Preparing for the Afterlife_

Chapter - 002

* * *

He remembered her voice. The way she pronounced her words with a slight Greek accent and calculating tone was hard to forget. The mech half expected he to be waking up in the forest to her mismatched, critically analyzing eyes, but he didn't. No, he opened his eyes to some human male just millimeters away from his face. The human's hot breath stunk of a foul mixture of grilled onions and energon. Thundercracker squirmed to avoid the bad breath, but he couldn't move away. His limbs were bound to the table and his head was secured. This foreign male brought his hand to Thundercracker's face, testing the blinking reflexes. An approving smile from the man was enough for Thundercracker to know he had obviously passed some test, but what he didn't know. The olive skinned man patted the top of his head like he were dog before walking away.

This gave Thundercracker the opportunity to analyze at least part of the room. It was a large, high ceiling room that reminded him of a warehouse on steroids. The walls were constructed of off-white, heavy, duty blocks while the ceiling was a dreary shade of grey. He could see the faint forms of other Cybertronians standing against the walls, but he couldn't make out their details. The seeker strained his head to see a familiar shape on the wall in front of him.

"Don't overreact," the female chided. As she made her approach, her heels distinctively clicked against the concrete and echoed off the walls.

"Don't overreact?" Thundercracker roared. He snorted at her before becoming aware of something more entirely scary. If his Cybertronian body was over there, then what body did he inhabit? Regretfully he looked down to see a sight worthy of him purging his energon tanks—well if he had any he would've.

He was human.

Human.

Not Cybertronian, but human.

His face became entirely pale at the site of his pale, nude body. In his state of shock, the female came over and shoved his head back down. "I said don't overreact," she reinforced with hardened voice. He turned his eyes towards her with hate, confusion, and curiosity. She ignored the emotions in his eyes and the clear questions he wanted to ask but couldn't because he was in shock. "You're going to damage your exoskin, and God knows exoskins take far too long to repair."

"Play nice, Slipstream," the olive skinned man across the room commented. He too had a faint Greek accent.

"Not around him," she hissed. To Thundercracker's relief, she directed her attention to the strange man. Thundercracker's eyes did not leave her. He merely took advantage of the situation to get a closer look at the woman. This was indeed the same woman he had met in the forest; however, she dressed differently. From head to two she was dressed in black; black three inch heels, black dress pants, black dress top with the sleeves rolled just passed her elbows, black choker necklace with an off-white cameo pendant, and black diamond studs in each ear. In one arm she held onto her checkered trench coat; the same shoulder supported her black Lamb purse.

"Whatever you say, Sebastienne," the man answered neutrally. The man approached the table once again, and Thundercracker could tell this person was the brain behind the operation. The man was obviously the woman's brother because of the facial structure, green eyes, and tall (six feet three inches) body. Upon a deeper inspection, he noticed that despite their height, the siblings must have been avid weight lifters by their enhanced muscles. Unlike her, he had professional short, dark chocolate hair and an older face than hers. He looked to be about his mid to late 30's while Slipstream was either late 20's or early 30's. He wasn't dressed well, but he assumed that was because of the work required to actually make a body like this. The man wore a dull shade of teal scrubs with a brand new, white as white could be lab coat over that.

The brother looked at Thundercracker with a much softer face this counterpart. "I'm sorry that we couldn't have met under better circumstances, Lieutenant Thundercracker," he spoke. "I honestly had hoped that it would be better, but I have to restrain you for logical reasons, until I can be assured that you are stable." He placed two fingers along the Thundercracker's neck artery, checking that the skin pulsed like a normal human's. "I'm Acidstorm—err, Achelous Stefanos." With his head he nodded towards his sister. "That's Sebastienne Stefania."

"Where am I?" Thundercracker asked wearily, unsure if these were friend or foe. He felt tensed as the woman turned around to face him.

"You're with us," she answered dryly. "That's all you need to know."

Her comment did not set well with Achelous. "Have some manners. He is a guest."

"He is a _decepticon_," Slipstream countered quickly. She pointed an accusing finger at Thundercracker. "He is part of the reason for our status." Like Starscream, her words were laced with venom, personal venom. She straightened herself out, not relenting on her growing glare. "He is a disgrace, someone who _deserves_ to be hanged for perpetuating the cycle." She didn't so much as look at Thundercracker as she made these statements, which irritated him. If he was to be insulted, then he preferred it to his face. Slipstream made the motion to speak again but swiftly caught herself before dangerous words could fill the air.

"Sebastienne you need—" His vibrating phone stole the man's attention. Achelous brought to phone to his ear and brought his other hand to his temples. He nodded before mumbling something about being there shortly. The phone shut with a sharp click. Achelous tucked the phone away in his chest pocket as he headed to the rack to hang his lab coat. "I have to go, Sebastienne," he said wearily. "One of your customers just got into a wreck."

"I merely provide them with the alcohol," Sebastienne said curtly. "I'm only in charge of what they do when in the bar; whatever they do outside the bar is not within my jurisdiction."

He rolled his eyes. "That doesn't change the fact that I have to go," Achelous reminded. He turned to his sister with a suspicious and mistrust look in his eye. "Take care of him while I go off and handle this case. When I get back I'll handle him. Is that understood, Slipstream?"

"I'm _not_ some child," she scoffed. "I can handle myself and him without any problems, brother." He stared at her moment longer before being satisfied that she would handle the situation in an adult manner. He grabbed his thick, wooly coat from the coat rack. He tipped his head in goodbye to Thundercracker before exiting the building.

A chilly breeze sunk into the room, causing Thundercracker's bare body to shake and react in odd way … well, odd for him. Normally cold weather was the best for his body functioned at optimal level in incredibly cold climates; however, a fleshy exoskin was just the opposite. It craved for warmth, not cold. He assumed the solution wasn't simple either. Thundercracker was too focused on this new feeling of cold to notice how Slipstream clicked away in her heels and clicked back to him. She placed a small bundle on the table, which drew his attention.

With a disgusted look on her face, she undid the straps that held him in place. Her warms hands grabbed his triceps as she helped him into a sitting position. There was a moment of temptation to lean into the hot touch and wrap his cold body around her, but a sharp look reminded him that she was the alpha. Thundercracker's eyes flicked from Slipstream to the weird, dangly things in between his legs. Very curiously he touched it, only to flinch at the sensitivity of the skin. "That's your genitals," Slipstream commented. "I wouldn't play with them too much … might suffer from some nasty side effects."

"Then what pur—"

She pointed to his penis. "That will be how you excrete your fluids, Thundercracker. The rest—" Slipstream made a motion to his reproductive organs. "Is just there for show." The seeker gave her a curious look with both eyebrows raised. "My brother likes to create an exoskin as closely mimicking a true human body as possible," she said as an answer. Slipstream swiftly changed topics, purposely doing so as to prevent Thundercracker from asking more questions. "Here are some clothes." She handed him a pair of Spongebob themed boxers. "Put those on first."

Thundercracker scooted himself off the table, gripping it for support. To his surprise, his balance was perfect. He grabbed the boxers, pulling them over his legs. That's when he noticed something so minute yet so critical to understanding the situation. His vision was the same as that of his Cybertronian body. Calculations and status of his body's function appeared along side with his sight. He could focus his eyes on minute dust particles like his old body or get the whole picture if he wished. "I'm still Cybertronian, aren't I?" Thundercracker asked as he pulled the jeans over his legs.

"Yes," Slipstream said, handing him an under armor shirt. "You are composed of a specially designed Cybertronian body. Your body has been adapted so that it cannot transform; however, it can provide your exoskin with the necessary nutrients to keep it alive. It's part of the reason why my brother waited to bring you back." She casually handed him a black dress shirt. Thundercracker slipped the shirt on, but fumbled with the buttons. With a mother's touch, Slipstream began to help him by buttoning the shirt for him. Her slim fingers easily pushed the buttons through the correct holes. "It takes several months to cultivate a human skin worthy enough to apply to one of bio-capable bodies."

"So it's a holoform?" Thundercracker asked.

She shook her head. "No," Slipstream corrected. "This is a body, capable of holding a spark."

For the second time, the seeker went pale. If his body was against the wall, then did that mean his spark had been taken out and replaced in this body? Suddenly he felt violated and unclean. Thundercracker pulled his arms close to his body and abruptly stepped away from Slipstream. "Where is my spark?" he demanded heatedly, venomously like Starscream.

"Your spark is safe," she answered bluntly. "Both of your sparks."

"Both?" he inquired.

She nodded, motioning to him to put on the navy, Northface jacket. "We did exactly what you did to Arcee—we split your spark into two separate sparks. One we kept in your seeker body." Sebastienne nodded towards his Cybertronian body. "The other was placed in the body you are currently inhabiting."

"If I am like Arcee, with multiple sparks, then why am I not functioning in my other body?" the mech questioned, still annoyed by the situation. "I should be able to control both bodies at the same time."

"Should," Slipstream pointed out. "But you can't." At that statement, she smirked like his trine leader, and it aggravated him in a way he thought only Starscream could do. He wanted nothing more than to knock that smirk right off her face. The only obstacle that held him back was the fear of the unknown. For all he knew those other Cybertronians could activate, blow his current body to pieces, and then her Cybertronian seeker body. Only that at this point could make his day any worse. He groaned and bit down on his new, slimy tongue. God, he hated having assholes for superiors. "We made sure that you would have no easy way of contacting those fiends you consider friends."

"So I still could?" Thundercracker asked curiously.

She gave him a look so evil, he was sure that even Megatron would have flinched. It wasn't just hate for his allegiance but a personal hate. He cautiously took a step back and gripped the table for security. Thundercracker wasn't sure why she didn't lunge at him because he could see in her eyes that she wanted to hurt him, make him pay for something. Instead she resigned herself to putting on her trench coat and turning her back to him. "If you did or even attempt to contact them Thundercracker, then I nor the others would hesitate to kill you our selves and melt down your body for energon," she stated coolly. "I still believe we should've gone with that option."

"Then why didn't you?" he asked. Thundercracker turned his head towards the walls. The north-facing wall housed two other Cybertronians. One was a bright yellow color with a lean body that he was sure was graceful, an envious small waist, and an oddly human-like, handsome face. On either side, framing his face, were small vent panels that made him look like he had a tiny mane. The body itself was sleek. The mech had huge, sloping shoulders and a wide chest that met a small waist. His legs were built for high speed because of the chicken-leg like structure. He was lightly armored; however, his armor was spotless. It appeared to have recently been waxed for his armor glittered in the light. Disturbingly, there was something familiar about the body because it sent a chill down his new spine, but he couldn't place it.

The other 'bot was heavier built like Ironhide and coated in a military green hue. A gun large enough to make Ironhide's look like Beebe guns was mounted to this bot's right shoulder. Heavy-duty armor covered nearly every inch of this mech; however, he appeared not to have a scratch on him. He appeared to have just gotten off the assembly line. This mech's face was less human. He had large eyes with a small forehead and a face that reminded him French bulldog.

"Because if we did that, then we'd be no better than the other two sides," she lied to him. Slipstream made no effort to disguise this lie, and Thundercracker just accepted it. He was much too interested in the mechs lining the walls—err mechs and femme.

To the West wall were two other Cybertronians, but their builds were much different. For a moment he wasn't sure whether they were aerial 'bots or seekers. They were heavily built, even for a tanking mech. Instead of having a typical triangular chest, it was longer, sleeker like a grounded mech. They had a much more defined abdomen. Like both aerial bots and seekers, the two had a small waist that put the yellow mech's to shame. Their legs were different than seekers. Both were constructed like a grounded mech's would be. The thighs were thick, heavily coated in armor, and compact. The calves were enlarged to the point they both gave the Cybertronians speed but compromised flight mobility in the air. The only giveaway these were seekers were the feet.

Regular grounded 'bot's feet were solidly built with very little moving parts; however, these feet were more animal like. There were digits on the ends of the feet with claws above them to help grip the sides of walls. In addition to proving these were seekers, they had the elongated arms and a hand with three fingers and two thumbs. Where the deltoids would be on a human, they had a high, protruding wing stabilizers (much larger than the normal seekers'). Along their backsides sprouted enormous, angular wings. Their head was situated closer to their chest than an aerial 'bots. The faces were nearly identical. They had mouths like Starscream's (beak-like) but similarity ended there. They large forehead with the etched out Decepticon insignia in the middle, and beneath that they had black visors to protect what he was sure would be a pair of red optics. Atop their head they had prong sticking up, and on either side where the audio sensors would be, another prong stood up.

Unlike the other two, their armor was _not_ perfect. A dull, opaque residue coated the outside of their armor. He assumed it to be from a chemical weapon. Along the seams of the armor, some strong acid corroded it. Flakes of rust had begun to peel off the superficial exterior of their bodies. More noticeable than the damaged armor were the wings. On both of them, the Decepticon insignia had been burnt beyond recognition. He pulled his jaw tightly together as he could imagine the pain; well no, he knew the pain. After all, he had had his wings brutally ripped from him. Thundercracker was reminded of the hollow, ghost-like feeling of not having wings. Beneath the burn marks, the seekers' symbol had been scratched out.

Thundercracker could understand traitors burning away the Decepticon logo; however, he couldn't imagine a reason why any sane seeker would do away with the very symbol that defined them as kings of the skies. Having that symbol was supposed to be a source of pride, a reason to gloat in front of other fliers. '_What kind of Cybertronian would resent their own species?_' he thought grimly, half wanting to know the answer and half not.

The differences between the two were small. The one on the left was a mech, and the right one was a femme—they were only distinguishable because the femme had a longer, slimmer face than her counterpart. The only other main difference he saw besides that was the paintjob. The mech was the bright, neon green. He instantly recognized this one s the aggressor who had torn his wings from his body. The femme consisted of cool, teal colors. The green aggressor's body, despite the damage, appeared to have been used often. The teal femme, well, looked as if she had been shut up in the warehouse to collect dust and rust.

"That's you isn't it?" he asked, walking towards the femme's Cybertronian body. She didn't respond, but he could see her holding her jaw tightly. He gently pressed a hand to the cold, lifeless metal. He stared up at the seeker body, admiring the unique structure. "I heard stories about you guys," Thundercracker spoke. "You guys were great … it was legend that _your_ trine was better than _mine_. I heard rumors how even _Megatron_ feared your power." He bowed his head, frowning. Thundercracker slowly looked to her, but she failed to meet his eyes. "What are the _Rainmakers_ doing here? You guys were supposed to be _dead_. Why—"

"We _really_ need to get going," Slipstream interrupted matter-of-factly. Still she did not look at him. "The others will begin to worry if I don't show up in time. I doubt you want to be on the receiving bad end of them." At that statement, she ushered him out of the warehouse.

The jacket helped to keep the cold air from touching his sensitive body, but it didn't prevent all of the cold from seeping into the cracks and holes of his outfit. He pulled his arms close to his chest as he shuffled towards the BMW M3, Melbourne red sedan. The short distance was deceiving. Underneath the two inch layer of snow was a sheet of black ice. He slid several times, just barely able to regain his balance at the last moment. And by the time he reached the car, she was already safely fastened in and warming up the interior. He shut door behind himself and strapped himself in.

Thundercracker saw something glisten out of the corner of his new optic. He turned to see a few tears streaking down her soft face. She tightly gripped the steering wheel and stared off into the night. He couldn't read her eyes except for a few emotions that he was all too familiar with: pain, regret, and stress. The last was an unfamiliar emotion he hardly ever saw: anxiety.

"Are you okay?" he asked in a rude tone.

She blinked, coming back from somewhere distant. "Yeah, it's just a paper cut," she muttered in a weak voice. Slipstream put the car in drive and began to drive through the snow in the middle of the night.


	4. The Devil's Advocates

_We are Preparing for the Afterlife_

Chapter - 003

A/N: I'm sorry for getting this story out late. Life's been hectic and muse has been "bleh" because of stress; however, a good friend and awesome writer (she's writing There's a Million&One Ways) sparked my muse by doing a sketch of Acidstorm and Slipstream. Go check it out now because it is a very awesome picture.

**Picture Link**: byebye-babeh .deviantart .com/art/Humans-Slipstream-Acidstorm-166191471?q=&qo=

I would also like to thank the people who had reviewed or faved or put this story under their alerts. The feedback really makes my day. C:

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* * *

The car ride to their base was silent, but that didn't help the growing, nervous, twitchy feelings he had. At first he had been able to ignore the urge to move and readjust himself. Thundercracker forced himself to look out the window and watched the snow come plummeting to the Earth harder and harder. For while it worked, but as crept along he couldn't help but squirm a little to find a more comfortable position. It began innocently by placing his feet on the dashboard, then crossing his arms, uncrossing his arms and putting them behind his head, crossing and uncrossing his legs, shifting his new weight from one side to other, turning on his side, curling up and uncurling, tapping his fingers, yawning nervously every few minutes, and of course running his hands along the side of his back every few minutes to remind himself that what he felt wasn't real. His wings were gone; yet, he still felt them there. Thundercracker involuntarily moved his torso in such a way that if he had wings, they wouldn't tough anything in the car.

It wasn't just the squirming signs that caught Slipstream's attention. Thundercracker had begun to sweat. He'd taken off his jacket and begun to use it as a towel. Some of the underdeveloped muscles in his arms twitched, along with his bottom eyelid of his left eye. It didn't end there. Whenever a high note was played, he would jump in his seat, searching for some threat to come and get him. His breath was shallow and fast, erratic even. The seeker looked about as white as the snow falling. Thundercracker lifted his head to catch her staring at him. Her eyes appeared sympathetic, maybe even a bit worrisome, but she quickly returned her attention to the road. He didn't understand how she could coolly watch him suffer, but maybe she didn't know what it felt like to have his circuits racing at full throttle, to feel this gross human skin twitch and move because of its hypersensitivity to the surroundings and his emotions.

For all his anger, the seeker was frightened. It was a cosmic joke. He, Thundercracker who's loud, roaring engines struck fear into others was now on the receiving end of that terrorist tactic. It is ironic that such high notes from the jazz music could make him feel so weak and on edge. It was only made worse when each systems check reported back the same finding: no weapons and offline communication systems. He saw no way of tracking down his trine or even coming in contact with any 'con without enduring a fatal consequence. And that was a frightening reality. He'd always have multiple ways of escaping thanks to Starscream's cowardly nature, but now … he had no way out.

"Is there any way to get rid of this feeling?" he asked in tone that was much too desperate.

She silent for several minutes, making him sure that she had chosen to ignore his question; however, she turned off the radio. She pulled over to the side of the road and sighed. She killed the headlights but left the car purring. "Get in the back and take off your shirt," she said, sounding like she had rehearsed the line. Thundercracker stared at her. "If you want to feel better, you will do as I say, Thundercracker."

The idea of riding himself of this anxiety made his spark jump with glee; however, he was expecting the worse. Knowing her, she'd have some painful punishment to distract himself from the anxiety. He stepped out of the car, and opened the door to the back seat. He slid in and Slipstream, quick as she was, followed behind him. She shut the car door as he undid his shirt, revealing his pale back to her. In the window, he could see his faint reflection. His breath quickly disrupted the image before he could make out the details of his new body.

The seeker's back arched away from her hands as she touched his trapezius. He caught his breath and held onto it as if his life depended on it. Slipstream moved closer. Her mouth was near his ear and he could hear her gentle breathing. "Relax," she whispered. The femme gentle kneaded into his shoulder, causing him to involuntarily relax. Thundercracker leaned into the touch. "If I wanted to hurt you, I would've made you get out of the car. Nothing is worse than to clean blood up from leather."

The comment left him feeling awkward. He was relieved at the fact that she was calming down his anxiety, at the same time, he knew she was a foe. In his world, she should have instead said _I'm only doing this because I have to, not because I want to. Don't piss me off because then I'll do what I want to do with you._ The seeker inhaled another deep breath, but as he exhaled, a low moan accompanied it. Slipstream's hands ran over the delicate pressure sensors in his skin and relieving them of the tension his muscles caused. His chin rested against his chest as he relished in the pleasurable touches. She slowly worked her way from top to bottom. Somehow the femme knew which muscles to knead more than others and how much pressure should be applied. With each knead she broke a little more of his concentration. Thundercracker found himself drifting away from the car and into the sky where he could be free.

He floated there in between the realms of dreams and reality for over an hour. An occasional moan would seep out of his mouth as she undid a rather painful knot in his muscles. In between his heavy, relaxed breaths, the seeker could barely hear the female humming a soothing lullaby. It was apparent that she was receiving some satisfaction from this experience. If she wanted to stop, he had no doubt she would be a strong woman—femme or whatever she was. When she reached the bottom of his back and found no more knots to undo, she wrapped her arms around his neck and let them hang on his chest. Slipstream rested her head on his shoulder. The seeker didn't know what to do, except remain still.

"Draw the seeker's symbol," she spoke quietly.

He drew it on the window without question.

"What do you see?" she asked.

This was like the meeting he had attended earlier. There were multiple answers, one for a different person. "It stands for one of the Decepticons greatest weapons. It stands for fear, power, and victory. It is just one of the reasons why the Autobots fear us."

"That's what Megatron would say," Slipstream said. "I asked what _you_ saw." She paused. "You do think for yourself, don't you? Or are you just another zombie, rebuilt from the ashes of your former self?"

"I can think for myself," Thundercracker said curtly. He jostled her off his shoulder; breaking away from the hypnotic state she had put him in. He craned his head as far as his limited body would allow and did what he always did when someone handed him a handful of bullshit: shut up and glare.

Somehow, it didn't have the same effect on her as it did others. She smugly smiled at him before chuckling. Her smug quickly turned into a tightly pulled, barely contained snort of doubt. "Is that so?" she asked in an aristocratic voice. It made her sound like an old politician ready to slowly suffocate her prey like a starving anaconda. The only difference was, her life didn't depend on it. "I think differently."

"Of course you would," he hissed. "Your deserter, an even bigger traitor than Starscream." She visibly flinched at the sound of his commander's name. The seeker had learned a long time ago when someone's name just agitated someone to no end. He'd seen the same effect on Starscream when someone muttered Megatron's name in his presence. "And what does the name Starscream mean to you, Slipstream?"

She didn't back away from a fight, something he was hoping she would do. She moved closer, pressing his back against the cool window. Her face was just millimeters away from his. "His name means same as yours, Thundercracker," she whispered with uncanny clarity. "And the same as the rest of you who follow the devil to his kingdom underground." To her surprise, he remained still as she brought her mouth to his ear. "All your names are just fancy words for _devil's advocate_."

He pushed her away and spat in her face. "Megatron is not the devil; it's that vile, human sympathizer Optimus. He's condemned our race to die and for Cybertron to slowly rust. But I guess you don't care about any of that. You'd much rather hide among these inferior insects," he argued viciously. "And that in itself is a disgrace. You're worse than the fucking Autobots. You and that—" Thundercracker couldn't bring himself to say his name. "You've given up. You have no pride for what you are. You're fucking cowards." He hovered over her, enjoying having the advantage of being on top. It made him feel power like he did in his _true_ body. "You're nothing but ghosts living out your final days."

Thundercracker heard a sharp click before he was flat on the ground. Somehow, he didn't know how, she'd managed to pull him out of the car and pin him stomach down on the ice. With a single hand, she'd pinned his puny arms behind his back, and with her free hand she smashed his head into the ground, not once, not twice but five times. With each blow, she put a bit more effort into making sure it caused pain; each blow caused Thundercracker to cry out. He'd felt his new exoskin break open. Instead of purple energon leaking out, a lively red color stained the snow. She leaned over Thundercracker apply more pressure to his sensitive wound. His inferior body's pain system forced him to whimper like a fool. It wasn't just wound that hurt, but the ice. Ice stung like bullets did when they lodged themselves in his wings.

"The Devil's advocates come in all forms, both the good and the bad men," Slipstream taught. She gentle pressed her lips to the crown of his head. "Now get back in the car; I need to clean you up."

And like that, she got off of him. He stayed on the ground for a moment and closed his eyes. Perhaps if he tried hard enough, he'd wake up to find himself once again being lugged into the medical bay by Skywarp after crashing, or maybe Skywarp was playing mind games again with him and fucking with his logic chip and optics as he recharged. The seeker wouldn't put it passed the prankster. It seemed the more stress there was on the Nemesis, the crueler Skywarp's pranks became. That was how he dealt with stress; Starscream on the other hand, he just screamed out his frustration, swearing from sundown to sunrise in different languages and dialects, many of which Skywarp swore weren't even real. There was no stopping once Starscream started on his rampage; even Megatron seemed to know that was a battle that couldn't be won.

Then you had Thundercracker. The higher the stress levels, the more introverted he became. He'd become a recluse and find every hiding place there were in the Nemesis. Then when there were no more hiding places, he'd simply go to Earth and hide out there until he found himself again. He'd always—"Run."

"What'd you say?"

He opened his eyes, only to see her apply a cover up to his face. Thundercracker could tell he was lying down because above her face, he could see the sedan's ceiling. She gently used to fingers to smooth out the make up. He winced at the pressure but restrained himself from squirming. Bits of her hair tickled his face as she worked diligently. He noticed she was humming again. The seeker didn't need to ask what had happened; it was already obvious he'd gone into stasis lock or whatever humans did when they suddenly went offline. "What are you doing?" he asked, a little more bluntly than he intended.

"Making you look pretty," she answered frankly. She licked her thump before using it to help blend the make up with his pale skin. "I can't have my brother see the extent of the damage you caused."

"Me?" he repeated. "_You_ did it!"

She sat up, giving him enough room to move into a sitting position. "What I did was a reaction. Had you not disrespected myself or my—" Slipstream looked for the right word to use in a delicate situation. "Family, then you wouldn't be looking like some drunk who lost a fight."

"I guess you would know how that looks," he muttered.

There must've been an edge to his voice because the she-devil straightened herself and looked like she was ready for a second reason to strike at him. "How would you know?" she retorted.

"Because your brother suggested he had to clean up one of your customers, and you made the comment that you only provide them with the alcohol," he replied flatly. "So it's safe to assume your career involves dealing alcohol, and alcohol has severe side effects on humans, including increasing their violence tendencies." She was silent, maybe even stunned by his answer. In a rare moment off the battlefield, he smirked like a child who had just beaten an adult at Scrabble. "See, I do use my processors."

"No, you didn't," Slipstream chided, ruining his fun. "You just linked one and one together—a two year old could do that. I asked you to analyze what a symbol represented to yourself, and you still haven't given me an answer." He burrowed his eyebrows next to each other and opened his mouth to speak, but the femme! Damn her! She interrupted him before he could even give her an answer. "I'm not asking for an answer right now." She rolled her eyes. "God knows you'll just rehearse another line one of your commanders has given you." Slipstream shut the door, leaving him in the back for a moment; then, she reemerged in the driver's seat. She flipped a switch, and the headlights came to life. "When you can think for yourself, you can give me your answer then." The femme took a deep breath as she pulled onto the road. "Now shut up and lay low. I don't want to be seeing your disgusting face in my rearview mirror."

He laid flat across the backseats thinking, '_She's more up and down than Starscream, and he's a rollercoaster_.'

By the time they arrived to their final destination, the light snow had turned into a blizzard. The air was thick with snow, which made visibility next to nothing surmountable. The headlights only lit up the road a few feet in front of the car; however, she didn't appear worry. She, from what he could tell, knew how to handle such situations. If they went into a slide (because she took a turn too sharply), she'd easily correct it by turning into the slide. And somehow, he wasn't sure, she knew when to stop to let some shadowy figures scurry across the road in a long, linear line. It was a wonder to see how she drove and equally terrifying in the cruel, winter conditions.

A low, warm glow caught the seeker's attention. Still remembering the damage she inflicted, he very cautiously moved into a sitting position. He held his breath and pressed his face against the window. The glow was growing larger. The glow actually consisted of several smaller glows that came from the windows. It was hard for him to make the details of the fortress, but he knew several details: it consisted of bricks, stood several stories tall, and had an old-country feel to it. The car came to a gradual five miles per hour as it entered the garage; then to stop. The car's engine died, leaving only silence between the two beings. Slipstream, being true to her name, casually and gracefully slipped out of the car. Thundercracker followed suite.

Looking around the garage, it was hard for him not to notice the two other cars, one an eye-burning yellow Aston Martin One-77 and the other an off-white BMW X5 xDrive50i SUV, and an empty space for a fourth car. Where a fifth car would have fit, were four BMW K1300S motorcycles. Two of the motorcycles were a duller white color; contrasting those, the remaining two were brilliant colors, one a fiery orange and the other a sleek black. Had he not been a seeker-prototype, Thundercracker would've chosen that model for his Earth disguise.

"Are you coming or not?"

Her sharp voice jolted him to reality. He quickly caught up to her at the white door. Thundercracker could vaguely hear the lyrics to a human pop music song: "_We've only got 86400 seconds in a day…gotta live like we're dyin!_" Louder than the lyrics was the exasperated sigh from Slipstream. Almost regretfully, she twisted the brass handle and entered a battlefield. Scattered across the lament floor were school uniform clothes; their colors consisting of a cool khaki for the pants and tacky green hue on the shirts. Books and loose papers covered the remaining, marble-colored lament floor. The walls along the hallway complimented the floors in such a way it made the hallway appear roomier.

With a sharp click of her heel, the noise that had filled the house vanished, and tension as thick as the snow outside filled the house. Slipstream looked up the white ceiling with a deadly cold glare. It was obvious now, even more so than before, that she was the alpha dog.

"Mommy!"

And with one, two syllable word, Slipstream's harshness melted away. It was a remarkable change how someone who seemed to have little emotions, aside from anger, could grin like they were actually happy. She squatted down, balancing on her heels, to wrap her arms protectively, lovingly around southern Indian girl of four years or so. The femme easily lifted up the child like she weighed nothing.

"You're suppose to be in bed, Sari," Slipstream said calmly to the little girl.

"I couldn't sleep," she protested. "The Yeti is gonna come get me!"

"And who told you this?" the seeker inquired as she strutted out of the hallway.

"John," Sari answered. "He said the Yeti was going to eat you and Daddy if you didn't come home soon. And then he said he was going to come after me!" She buried her head into her mother's shoulders; the child was clearly upset. She had a death grip on her mother.

"Shh," the femme comforted; rubbing the child's back. "There are no such things as Yetis, and if there were, they wouldn't get you. Yetis only go after mean kids, Sari."

"Like John?" she inquired.

Slipstream nodded. "Yes, like John." She set Sari down and gently pushed her ebony hair behind her left ear. "Now go take Thumper upstairs. I'll be up soon to read with you."

"Okie Dokie, Mommy!" she sang happily. Sari skipped merrily down the hallway, yelling out Thumper's name.

Thunder nervously stepped out from behind the corner to join Slipstream in another hallway. To the left was a hallway that led to what he assumed to be the laundry room; the right led to the kitchen and dinning room. Then straight ahead was an open hallway. There were no walls to separate the various, spacious rooms. The aroma of Hamburger Helper lingered in the air; the smell, which might have been pleasant to humans, was enough for the seeker to feel nauseated. He put a hand over his mouth as a precaution.

"You'll get used to it," Slipstream commented. She inhaled the air. "It's the smell of a human home."

"Mommy?" he inquired, taking the hand away from his face. He arched an eyebrow at the femme. "What the hell is up with _that_?"

"It's a title given to the maternal figure in a child's life," she replied bluntly.

"No," he corrected, making himself clearer. "What the hell is up with her calling _you_ that?" He picked up his pace as he followed her into the kitchen. The ceilings were high, but the kitchen itself was compacted. Along the west side was a stove, four burners, and grill. On the east side was the fridge with a few white cabinets in between it and the dishwasher. Situated in the middle of the kitchen was an island; the top of it covered in more papers, stained food bowls with left over Hamburger Helper, and the mail. The walls were pho painted mainly gold with some airy blue accents. If he were not distracted, the seeker would have remarked that the room was beautifully crafted. "Have you lost all your sanity and pride? You're a seeker who's taken this role as a human _too_ far. Not even the auto-"

She covered his mouth before the words could leak into the air. The femme was once again resumed her dominating, vicious nature. Her eyes narrowed and felt like knives cutting into his spark. He could feel her left hand around his throat, working in a way that made his neck ache. No words penetrated the air but he could hear her threat clearly, clearer than if she had spoken the words aloud. "_Do not discuss anything about __**them**__._" Slipstream nodded upwards. "_She does not know. Keep it that way_."

"Hey, hey, hey!" a man commented. "Play nice, Aunty." From the hallway emerged a young man of sixteen years or so. He walked—strutted in with the cocky walk of a jock. He was shorter than either of the two seekers, only coming to a height of five foot eight inches. The teenager was paler than Slipstream, looking like a typical Caucasian in the middle of winter. He was pasty white, and his pale blonde hair did nothing to add color to his bland self; however, he was well muscled. The boy wasn't nearly as defined as Acidstorm, but had a nice figure. He had an ebony towel wrapped around his waist, with a pink flower design for trimming. Along the side it said in obnoxiously big, pink words "_Flower Power_." The male's most shacking feature was his electrified blue eyes. Something about them and the way they gave him a subtle glare sent a shiver down his spine. With a sly smirk, the boy nodded towards Slipstream before chuckling.

The guy didn't say anything aloud; yet, he must've said something because Slipstream was lightly laughing. "I don't play nice," Slipstream corrected. "I play fairly." Slipstream let her grip on Thundercracker go, so she could cross her arms. "Care to explain why Sari thinks a Yeti will come get her, or should I go ahead and punish you?"

Whatever swagger he had was gone. He tried to shrug as he composed an excuse. "She wouldn't leave me alone, and I needed to get on with my friends and kick ass in Red Redemption."

"Did you study?" Slipstream asked rhetorically. "Of course not." She sighed and pressed a finger on either side of her nose. "You're getting a C+ in Pre-calculus, which is unheard of in this household. How do you even plan on getting into a decent college with grades like that? And no, you will not be accepting any sports scholarships."

"Why not?" he protested. "I've done it several times before without any problems."

"And the one time you almost blew our cover with all your "late night studying" with the girls," Slipstream chided. "The last thing we need is for NEST to even get the slightest idea we're here. I nor anyone else here wants to have to relocate _again_ because of _you_."

"Oh, and like you haven't made a mistake here or there," he combated.

"I've _never_ put this family in harm's way," the femme hissed.

"MOMMY!"

"Watch him," she barked hastily as she pointed to Thundercracker with a slim finger. She rounded the corner, disappearing from the seeker's view. Only the faint clicking of her heels reminded him she was only holding back because of Acidstorm.

Unsure of himself and damn irritated at the situation he had involved himself, he made a silent sneer towards the boy. It was more amusing than anything to Thundercracker; the way John leaned against the counter with his arms crossed like he was some "big shot." At the same time, the glare he gave Thundercracker was unnerving but not nearly as intimidating at Slipstream's; somehow his cooler glare held more personal meaning to Thundercracker. He knew those eyes; he swore he did.

"Sup, asshole?" John inquired. He lifted his head. "I bet it hurts—your wound. I knew Sebastienne said she did a number on you, but I didn't expect her to bust your face." He turned his full face towards the seeker. "I always forget that Slipstream was an elite soldier, but _damn_, I thought a well-seasoned soldier, high-ranking like yourself would've been able to do _better_."

"I was caught off guard," he growled beneath his breath. "She played dirty."

John shrugged. "And that's something new? All war is dirty fighting, especially among your faction. You should be used to it. After all, you're in the right position to see some of the dirtiest fighting, with Markos and Saunders' constant battle for power. I'm really surprised that Saunders is still alive." The boy devilishly grinned. "We have a bet going to see when Saunders will die by Markos' hands. Sebastienne thinks he has ten more years, but I'm more inclined to think he'll die in the next few months for his shitty battle skills and stupidity."

"Don't you dare talk about him like that," Thundercracker hissed. He stepped forward, clenching his fists together. "You know nothing of him, boy. He is genius, a commander worthy of taking over Megatron's position if needed to. He's got plans for this war and afterwards. He has the ambition we need!"

The boy chuckled for a moment before sighing. He looked to the ground, shacking his head. "You're just saying that because you're part of his trine, and that he is your leader. At the moment, you're without a trine. You have no protection, no sense of family or closeness to anyone." He looked up, staring seriously at him. "I know what seekers are like without a trine. They're anxious, frustrated, fearful, and hell to be around. I also know when without a trine they will avidly defend them, even when they don't particularly like their wing mates. It all has to do with instincts." He began to walk away from the white cabinets towards a table that looked like a piece of modern art. John took a seat at the table and placed his elbows on the glass. "You aren't perfect, not by far, but you make a third seeker. That's enough for a trine. So I suggest you forget your old trine and start making amends with Sebastienne. It will make _all_ of ours lives easier."

Thundercracker stood there, staring blankly at John. He knew quite a bit more than the average Cybertronian knew about their race. More importantly than that, he had referred to him at a third member in an otherwise two party trine. He twisted his head a few degrees to the left, not quite sure what to make of it. Well, the obvious was the obvious. In order to become a fully functioning trine again, they needed a third person. "But …" His words died before they left his processor. Sympathetically he looked towards the ceiling as he imagined Slipstream reading softly to Sari. "What happened to the third?"

The seeker looked towards John, but the boy dipped his head to his chest. "He can't come. He's stuck on Cybertron."

Just as quickly as he had sympathy for Slipstream, it evaporated into anger. "Serves 'em right then," Thundercracker spoke, his voice crackling like a whip. "If they were stupid enough to betray him, then they deserve to suffer together. You can't even imagine the sense of betrayal he must be feeling on Cybertron. Wounds like that don't heal easily or nicely."

"They know," John replied neutrally. "They feel it themselves all the time." He lifted his head. His swagger seemed to have gone, perhaps neutralized for the moment by the solemn topic. "Why don't you take a seat? It'd make Slipstream happy."

Even though he wanted nothing more than to see Slipstream burn in hell's fiery lake for betraying a trine member, he wasn't about to provoke her. Anything to keep her happy and out of his hair was the best course of action he could decide upon. Thundercracker slid easily into the seat directly across from John. "Why?" he inquired curiously.

He shrugged. "Dunno."

"Surely they've—"

"No," he replied in a sterner voice. "They've never said why they left him on Cybertron."

"That doesn't make logical sense," Thundercracker argued. "No normal seeker would even dare think of leaving their trine. It goes against everything they've been programmed with."

"Well, they aren't normal seekers," he answered. "Normal seekers aren't subjected to experimentation."


End file.
